My Heart Will Always Be the B-Side to My Tongue
by Canadino
Summary: A story about beginnings and endings. Companion piece of From Under the Cork Tree.
1. Of All The Gin Joints In The World

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

Background music: -

[=]

The thing is, Midorima Shintarou is an optimist. He never believes in the perpetuity of bad news, so he's never eternally miffed when anything unfavorable happens. It's just that luck and karma and anything are cyclical and never last too long. His mother says this is what keeps him plucky and a little strange even in adulthood. The thing is, despite that, he can't figure any good thing from Akashi's declaration: "I'm going to get married, Shintarou."

"I see," he said because there wasn't anything else to say. Akashi stared at him from across the room in their apartment, grand ninety-two thousand yen a month rent. "But we're dating."

"Yes," Akashi agreed. "But we won't be, anymore; not after that."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

"It's best to do it now before we build any more attachments before the wedding. She's a nice girl. Her name is Momoi Satsuki."

"We've been dating for six years," Midorima said, hearing his voice sound strangely pleasant and unaffected while his mind struggled to remember the name amidst the confusion. "Why are you getting married?"

"It is what my father wants. It is also a beneficial strategy for the family name. She is the daughter of a business magnate that my family has been working with for many years. It would signify the solidification of our alliance and family partnership." He smiled and folded his hands like it had been an irrefutable business deal. Midorima put down his book and decided it had been an unfair sneak attack on Akashi's part. But he was a doctor and doctors recovered fast.

"Is it what you want?"

"It is irrelevant what I want. I want what's best for the family I was raised to inherit."

"And I?"

Akashi's mouth twitched, twisting with something undefinable before his lips settled into an expressionless line. "You were a happy accident." He spoke before Midorima could open his mouth. "I don't regret you, nor do I feel satisfaction at having to put you aside. It wasn't easy but it's how it has to be." His lips twisted again, his eyes coloring a little murkier and Midorima had enough experience with him to swallow his words. It was a medicine of the most bitter variety, worse than any he'd ever had the pleasure of encountering, and while he wished to protest and resist - deep down, he understood. He had understood the implications of entering a relationship with the heir of a business empire that produced most of the pharmaceuticals he worked with. Akashi was a powerful figure, yes, but there were still a good many things outside his grasp. Push as much as he'd like, Akashi would only retreat and carefully lock himself up again.

Midorima forced a grimace. "You're right, as always."

"Yes," Akashi said. He stayed where he was at the junction where the living room met the hallway to the bedroom. He had the same sort of face he wore to entertain his father's guests, polite and distanced. He was wonderful at tricky body language, but Midorima had had six years to learn the tongue. Midorima wished to cross the space and press a reassuring kiss to those anxious lips, but it was beyond his abilities now. "I shall be leaving here later this afternoon. In return for your troubles, I will shoulder the rent so you may stay here."

Akashi's sudden cleaning of the apartment was no longer a mystery to Midorima. The heavy boxes Akashi had had moved must have been his things, and it had not been Midorima's imagination that their room felt a little emptier. "You don't have to go to all that trouble," Midorima said, loathing a little how clear and even his voice was. He ought to refute the almost imperial declaration, but the futility of it all rewrote his intended script. "I am capable of finding housing of my own."

"Please," Akashi murmured, beginning to return to their room. It was a rare moment of petition and Midorima was caught off guard again. "For all you've done for me, this is barely compensation."

[=]

The apartment was spacious and very empty. Midorima found it a little too dark for his tastes as he prepared himself dinner, the only light on in the apartment being the overheads in the kitchen and the ceiling lamp over the dining table. He considered keeping the television on for background noise to be unnecessary, but he was beginning to understand why some preferred it to the incessant quiet. He had been home before with Akashi gone on familial business, but he supposed the knowledge of himself as the place's sole occupant was quite a weight on his shoulders. He frowned to himself; the stir fry was burning before his very eyes.

He had attempted to pretty up the burnt vegetables on the plate as artfully as possible when he heard the crash in the bedroom.

Frantically, he ran to his bedroom, wooden spatula in hand as a weapon, before he considered that this was possibly a horrible, dangerous idea and that perhaps it couldn't possibly be a thief because wasn't the apartment on the fifth floor of the complex? Midorima had finally accepted these truths and had held the spatula before him as he fumbled around at the doorway for the light switch. If he died, suppose it took days to find his body? His hand brushed against the switch and he just about let out a war cry - which he feared would leave his mouth as a terrified shriek - when light flooded the room and Akashi was balanced on the windowsill, hand outstretched to where the lamp on the dresser beside the window had been. Now it lay on the floor in a heap.

"Akashi?" Midorima said incredulously.

"Shintarou," Akashi said, breaking out in a smile. "I had meant to come back for something but I'd forgotten my keys."

"The doorman could have let you in," Midorima insisted. "You didn't have to climb through the window." The image of Akashi scaling the wall was ludicrous. He could scarcely believe it but here was Akashi, perched on the window with wind ruffled hair and Midorima swallowed. "You could have phoned me and we...could have worked something out."

"Perhaps," Akashi agreed, sliding off the windowsill and into the room. "But I wanted to see you." Midorima would have dropped the spatula then and there and did when Akashi strode over to him in two quick strides and kissed him on the mouth, arching his back and pressing a warm weight against Midorima's chest. "When I thought I wouldn't be able to see you again, I couldn't stand it, so I rushed to come see you..."

"You're not Akashi Seijuro," Midorima said when Akashi broke off, looking dreamy and perfect and - fake.

"I am," the Akashi lookalike laughed. "But perhaps not the Akashi Seijuro you were expecting."

[=]

"Come in," Akashi ordered after a knock at his door and a soft greeting by one of the maids. He was doing some last minute stock analysis before bed; it relaxed him somewhat. He always felt perpetually haggled at the main house. His father had insisted he adhere to tradition and spend his last few months at the family home before sharing his name with another.

"Please excuse my interruption at this late hour, young master," the maid said, bowing deeply at the door. "I only bring along two short but urgent messages."

"Speak, then, please."

"First: Midorima Shintarou called. He said there was an urgent matter he could not elaborate upon but it needed your immediate attention, and to please call him at your earliest and soonest convenience. He stressed tonight, if possible."

"And the second?" Akashi inquired, finishing his analysis and reaching to switch off his phone.

"An unknown number called, left no name, but said to expect a message at eleven-forty-three on the dot."

Akashi glanced at his phone. It was 11:43 precisely. At that moment, he received a message from an unknown number. He had a feeling the source had probably encrypted the line. He clicked to open it without a moment's hesitation.

_It's been a while little brother! How could you dare leave such a capable house husband on his own?_

"Please have Takeda send the car around the back. And keep this unknown to my father at all costs. I will assume responsibility if necessary."

"Yes, young master."

[=]

"Seijuro," Akashi greeted, almost snarling.

"Seijuro," the other Akashi replied, all glee.

"I don't understand," Midorima said.

"Shintarou," Akashi said, not taking his eyes off the imposter, "allow me to introduce my twin brother, Akashi Seijuro. Our names differ by the kanji used, but I can assure you we share many other differences. Our father especially liked the name." The twin grinned at him and Akashi stepped into the apartment reluctantly, allowing Midorima to take his coat and scarf. "Why are you back, brother?"

"I heard you're getting married."

"How could you hear that? You've been cut off from the main house."

"The walls have eyes, little brother." Akashi's brother seemed positively gleeful. He also seemed quite at home in his apartment, having crawled in in tight pants and abandoning them to rummage through Midorima's drawers for some looser sweatpants. For one terrifying second, Midorima could see Akashi notice this and his lips drew tighter.

"You've bugged this apartment, haven't you?"

"What?" Midorima sputtered.

"My older brother is what many people may consider a technical wizard. He'd been programming since he was five."

"I've bugged this entire apartment, the main house, and most of the places you frequent," the twin said proudly, beaming with almost villainous pearly white teeth. "I was hoping to integrate into your life without you noticing, kind of like a double life. When I heard you'd be coping yourself up at the main house for the next few weeks because of some political marriage, I thought I caught a big break! But I guess househusbands are useful for some things, like guard dogging."

"Why haven't I ever heard of his brother of yours?" Midorima asked, opting to pretend the twin brother did not exist in the room with them. The twin leered at him. They were very eerily alike; the way they shared the same face unnerved him. "You always told me you were an only child."

"Lawfully, yes," Akashi sniffed, never taking his eyes off his brother with same sort of expression he would have toward a nuclear bomb or a rabid puppy. "The family had disowned him years back. It would be bad luck to even mention the name. He'd slipped off the radar ever since. Why are you back?"

"I came out first but our father deemed me damaged goods because of my eye." Indeed, the only way Midorima could distinctly tell the difference was the eyes - Akashi's eyes were both a dark, rich red but his twin's had one golden, bright left eye. "His obsession with perfection is truly a sight to see. He's rubbed off on my brother, as you can tell. Seijuro was always the favorite, and I was left to waste away on my own."

The twin then gave Akashi a pointed look. "To answer your question, I'm back to ruin our father."

"Explain."

"Well, you know, power over big companies can be given two ways: peacefully or not. I intend to seize our family's company by force."

Midorima turned quickly with horror to Akashi. "It seems we have the same goal, then," Akashi replied.

"And you hope to achieve that goal by marrying that rich girl?"

Akashi's lips twitched. "It's part of the plan, yes."

His brother laughed. "Good luck with the slow method, little brother. I intend to completely snatch everything from our scum of the earth father in half the time you would have taken with your subtle, slow-acting ways. Unlike you, I can't wait."

"Then what do you propose?"

"Well," his twin hummed, tapping his chin with a mischievous smirk. "It wouldn't do if you told father, would it?"

"If our father hasn't already discovered that you've come back, it isn't my place to rat you out. It wouldn't benefit me and would give me more work as it is."

"Let me just put it this way," his twin said. "I can manipulate stocks."

"Isn't that illegal?" Midorima interjected. The twins gave him matching looks. He quieted immediately.

"I won't change numbers," Akashi's brother sniffed, suddenly adopting the look Midorima saw on Akashi's own face whenever he had said something particularly dimwitted. "But I have access to things that _can_."

"Sure it may be underhanded," Akashi agreed. "But it isn't like my family hasn't done anything off the record."

"But as it stands," his brother said, turning his attention back to Akashi. "I still need your help, so I suppose my arrival also heralds a potential alliance."

Akashi regarded his brother. "What would you need my help for?"

"Surely you also have noticed that our father distrusts the digital age. I'm sure half of it is because of his old-fashioned ways, but I'm a little proud to say he might still be paranoid and afraid of me. He has a lot of paperwork and contracts he still keeps physical forms of and locks them in his safe in his office at the main house. I would like to see those."

"You know that I have no access and do not have the code either. Our father doesn't even trust his own heir with that material."

"Thankfully our father is also paranoid and has a digitally locked safe. As expected he's afraid of traditional crooks. Ordinary crooks can't crack a sophisticated electronic code without skills. However, I have equipment that can crack them, and I willingly volunteer to snatch them myself. You would not be indicted in any way. You know how flawless my skills can be." Akashi's twin wiggled his fingers. "I just need a way to get close to the safe, and that's where you come in."

Akashi's face was stony. "I suppose we are aiming for the same thing and you can help me realize this goal much sooner than I calculated."

"Perfect!" his brother rubbed his hands together. "We can discuss this in full detail later. First things first; now that I have a role here, I need a place to stay temporarily in Tokyo."

"I can find you a discreet place."

"I prefer here." The twin threw his arms out. "It's a place for two and there's currently only Shintarou staying here. Why not let me bum a ride here? You don't mind, do you, Shintarou?"

"I," Midorima began.

"You don't have to," Akashi said quickly.

"Oh, come now," Akashi's brother said, sidling up to Midorima and snaking an arm around Midorima's. "I promise I won't be a bother. And anyway, I find you quite attractive...I suppose tastes do run in the family."

"Guh," Midorima blubbered.

"Seijuro, stop," Akashi warned.

"What?" his twin asked. "You're not dating him, so he's a free agent. And if you call your people, isn't there a chance my arrival might get around to Father? Just let me stay here, little brother. I'll be out of your hair." He looked up at Midorima. "It's just family business. You won't even notice I'm here. It would be a big favor to both me...and my brother, undoubtedly."

Midorima glanced at Akashi. He was conflicted, Midorima could tell, by the way his eyes were murky and he had a slight frown, slightly tense fingers. "I don't - mind, I guess, if only for a little while."

"I can find a place for him immediately if it's too much trouble," Akashi interjected.

"Great," Akashi's twin sang. "You can call me Seijuro. Calling me by my family name sounds so stuffy. It's different kanji so you don't have to be all flustered about it." He offered a wide, almost plastic smile. He went to the guest room as Midorima walked Akashi to the door.

"I apologize for my brother," Akashi said. "I really don't want this to be a bother to you; you really don't have to do this."

"I don't mind," Midorima said. "For - for a friend."

Akashi looked up at him in the doorway. Midorima bit his lip. "Does this mean that I could still call you...I mean, about your brother? Would you mind?"

"Oh." Akashi stepped back over the threshold of the doorway. "I suppose. Because it's now business, isn't it?"

"You're still hung up on it, aren't you?" Seijuro asked, when Midorima closed the door and stood behind his apartment's door for five minutes. "But I understand; it was really a one-sided breakup."

"Where did you put listening devices in my apartment?"

Seijuro laughed. "Where indeed?"

[=]

Note: why am i doing this to myself


	2. Sugar, We're Going Down

Midorima woke up with a bitter, morning taste in his mouth and the distinct, nagging feeling of something amiss that tied a knot in the back of his neck. He scowled at the ceiling and worked the kinks out of his neck enough to look around groggily. A head of brilliant red hair was lying close to his shoulder, and it lifted and gave him a tired smile and leaned up toward him for a kiss.

Midorima could not shove his hand into the head's face quickly enough. "Why are you sleeping on my bed?"

The eyes were wide and a little starstruck looking back at him, and Midorima almost relented because they were so innocent - almost deviously so. "Your spare futon didn't feel good on my back," Akashi's brother mumbled against Midorima's palm, breath warm. "And your bed is certainly big enough, isn't it?"

"You're not allowed to sleep with me."

"Why not? My brother isn't anymore."

Midorima turned away in frustration and left the bed. "I need to get to the clinic now. Please don't go through my things while I'm gone."

"I'm not a freeloader!" Seijuro laughed. "I have no intention of staying in all day."

"What do you plan on doing?" Midorima asked, feeling a creeping sense of apprehension. Seijuro hopped off the bed and padded down the hallway, following him into the bathroom. In the mirror, it became more obvious to him that the shoulders of the shirt that Seijuro was wearing to bed was much too broad for him and he realized with a sinking stomach that Seijuro had probably gone through his drawers to find it. It surprised him a little that the look on Akashi had been painfully arousing, the sight of milky white thighs, but now he was taken with a distinct feeling of discomfort. He turned and grabbed at his shirt, almost making to take it off, before freezing.

"Lewd," Seijuro teased, offering no resistance. "I'm going to go out. Research."

"What are you going to do," Midorima ground out, still gripping the shirt's collar. "Don't you dare think of besmirching Akashi's honor with his face."

Seijuro looked at him, a blank almost artificial expression on his features. "You really do think of my brother first, don't you?" The grin that carved his mouth did not reach his eyes, dark and cryptic. "It's too bad that loyalty hasn't really worked out for you lately, isn't it?"

Midorima let go of him. "Get out of the bathroom," he sighed; it was not worth getting upset so early in the morning. "I need to take a shower."

Seijuro was still and for a moment, Midorima thought he might have gotten through to him - but a moment later, the redhead had slid up to him and leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth and he stumbled backward into the sink in shock. "I'll make us coffee," Seijuro laughed, and closed the bathroom door behind him.

[=]

Midorima had lunch with Akashi at Akashi's insistence and understood from the way Akashi held him at a respectable distance that he ought to accept Akashi's treat without protest. It wouldn't do any good in either way - Akashi had the habit of wiring money into his account for any expensive gift he'd given the man and he doubted changing bank accounts was really going to deter the young master from what he wanted. "I'm sorry for getting you in this mess," Akashi began after they had ordered.

"It isn't your fault," Midorima said. "You couldn't have seen this coming."

"No," Akashi agreed. "But I could have done more about it." He sat, thinking, and Midorima wondered how many times Akashi had taken the same stance and thought of him. It was too romantic of a notion. "I'll come over tonight and make him leave. You don't deserve this sort of trouble."

"Wouldn't he become your trouble, then?" Midorima asked. "With your...wedding approaching. I could...keep him in check until then when...you'd presumably have more time on your hands." Akashi looked up at him with a second of unchecked affection before the look in his eyes cooled. "I can hold my own."

"I know." Their food arrived and Akashi switched subjects and asked polite pleasantries about the clinic and Midorima's clientele, to which Midorima countered with polite inquiries about Akashi's aging father and the family company. It was the lack of Akashi's lingering glances and his hesitation at pressing deeper in certain subjects that indicated any change from before. Still - Midorima fetched their coats from the coat check (the son of the cornerstone business of the Japanese economy did not just dine at any establishment) and helped ease the brown peacoat around Akashi's shoulders.

"Thank you," Akashi said, as they started down the narrow corridor to the door of the restaurant, both for the coat and his presence. Midorima said nothing and touched Akashi's elbow, almost medieval in his ways, and when Akashi turned, he eased down and pressed a light, slightly desperate kiss to his lips.

Akashi did not push him away; Midorima disengaged and Akashi had accepted it, a slight starstruck gleam in his eyes that Midorima had seen in Seijuro's eyes that morning - his lips slightly parted. Akashi closed his mouth and did not look up to meet Midorima's eyes. "That has to be the last time," Akashi murmured, shifting the weight on his feet before continuing toward the door.

[=]

Seijuro did not personally know many people in Tokyo, but he knew of friends of friends of friends, and he knew some people owed him big favors. The sound of his name might not invoke tremors, as he knew his father's might, but he was worth enough to be given his rightful attention. He made some phone calls and sent some emails and met with two stockbrokers in the span of three hours.

As expected, he would not get what he wanted immediately, but anything made quickly was not worth eating, in his experience.

He supposed, as he made his way through the streets a little more quick-footed than his brother might - Akashi Seijuro seemed to be the kind of man to take things slowly, as he'd always been - he ought to be more ashamed of himself, raised by such a family. But ever since the disownment, the only thing that really tied him to such a group was the name, and the Akashi name was never associated with superiorly high morals.

His father and his brother might be better at faking it, but Seijuro found no reason to hide it, especially if one produced favorable results. The world could use more honest men like himself. He was no criminal and had broken no laws, and if Japan honestly cared more to fill up the loopholes, perhaps he'd turn a new leaf, but until then, he'd do as he pleased.

Presently someone had grabbed his shoulder on the sidewalk and before turning, he ran through every possible scenario: 1) it was his father, seeing him and knowing the difference because his dutiful brother was in the office and this was the end, 2) it was his brother, who would undoubtedly interrogate him for his wanderings, 3) it was Shintarou, his brother's amusing ex-boyfriend who would still be full of the sexual frustration that had been present in his eyes since the first time he'd laid eyes on him, or 4) it was an old friend and all his old friends he did not want to see. But when he did eventually turn around, eyes wide with his best impression of his brother's endearing face, he did recognize the face.

"Atsushi," he said, painting on relief and recognition. "How nice to see you lately." This giant of a man was one of his brother's friends, and if his surveillance served him correctly, his brother tended to visit him during stressful business transactions; his brother had an unexpected sweet tooth.

"Aka_chin_," Murasakibara Atsushi said. "You hadn't come by the store in such a long time that I thought you didn't want your order anymore."

His order? Seijuro had stopped keeping tabs on his brother and his friends for a few days. Still - he was an Akashi, and his deduction skills were second to none. "Ah yes. Well, things have been very hectic on my end. I have no further additions to make on the design of the wedding cake I've chosen, so there's not much to discuss about it, is there?"

Murasakibara's hand was still on his shoulder. Seijuro did not remember him being particularly touchy with his brother in the past. "Are you going into the office today, Aka_chin_?"

"Of course. Today's a regular day, like always."

Murasakibara gave him a long look. "You usually don't dress like that to go to work, though." Seijuro looked down upon himself. He was by no means sloppily dressed, but his brother did make it a habit to do his office work in a fine suit. His slacks and tailored dress shirt - no man ought to make business meetings looking like a fool - were clearly several steps down from the usual.

"I did not feel the need to be fully formal today," Seijuro shrugged. The hand on his shoulder was becoming heavy and it was unnerving him slightly. "I have a luncheon soon with some of our staff and it wouldn't do to make a noticeable distinction between a superior and his employees, would it?"

Murasakibara stared at him again. "I lied, and so did you," he said finally. "I met with Aka_chin_ this morning to discuss the wedding cake. But you said you hadn't seen me about it at all since the initial planning. I thought you were weird even if you looked like Aka_chin_. Who are you?"

If this trend of everyone noticing a difference between him and his brother, his acting skills were going to need serious improvement. He lowered his chin somewhat. "My name is Akashi Seijuro."

"No, stop lying. Who are you really, and why do you look so much like Aka_chin_?"

Seijuro laughed. "I'm not lying. Honestly, my brother is so loved if he's even got you around his finger like he does Shintarou."

Murasakibara's expression darkened for a moment. "Brother? And what do you mean by that?"

"Frankly, I'm amazed that every man my brother comes into contact with wants to tumble into bed with him."

It took a moment for this to fully sink in, and Murasakibara let go of his shoulder in surprise. Seijuro backed away, calculating the range of those arms, and at an acceptable distance, looked back up and saw an almost schoolgirl expression on Murasakibara's face. "I never thought that about Akachin," he insisted, flushed at the insinuation. "Aka_chin_ is my precious friend and that's it. I never thought of…" There was unguarded sincerity in his face. And anyway, from what Seijuro knew about him, Murasakibara seemed more invested in his desserts than other people, in general. Such things were probably foreign concepts to him.

"I'm just teasing you," Seijuro soothed, coming forward. If anything, he was a wonderful animal trainer, and Murasakibara's allegiance could possibly be important. "Don't be mad at me." He was not short in any definition of the term, but Murasakibara's frame was something he fit in snugly with a little bit of room. He wondered if his brother had noticed how perfect of a space it was against the wind or as a shield from aggressors. Though - Midorima certainly served as his brother's white knight, in any case. He brought his hands up and pinched Murasakibara's cheeks.

The gesture was strange, Seijuro knew, because Murasakibara flinched. There was a quiet sort of awe, before sense returned and it was not Akachin who had done it but his previously unmentioned brother. "Who are you?" Murasakibara asked again.

"I already told you," Seijuro said, taking a polite step back. "My name is Akashi Seijuro."

[=]

Midorima was methodically cleaning the apartment when Seijuro returned. Midorima spared him not a single word and only motioned with his head to move his feet. Seijuro hopped out of the way and bounded over to settle on top of the kitchen counter, watching as Midorima mopped at the floor. There was a slight smell of dust in the air, and the vacuum in the corner looked freshly used. Seijuro had only seen this event once enough to understand; Midorima cleaned with fervor when he was upset.

"What happened?"

"Nothing." Midorima's voice was curt, but hardly distanced enough to be persuasive. Seijuro kicked off his shoes, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and got his feet wet as he walked over to Midorima.

"Don't try and trick me. You'll never be able to do that."

Midorima's jaw set. "Don't say that."

"Why? Because my brother said that a lot? Or words to that effect?" Seijuro watched as Midorima's shoulders tensed. He was not going to dodge the bullet as his brother liked to do. But he was sure Midorima understood there was a difference, a distinction. "Did you see him today?"

Midorima was swiping wet lines over and over in the same space. "Yes," he grounded out, and Seijuro deducted his mental state was frayed if he was willing to be honest without too much goading. "Is this something your family is good at? This whole thing about forgetting and pretending nothing happened?"

Seijuro blinked. "That sounds like my brother."

"I know I'm being immature. I know the high road to take. There's nothing I can do about this marriage." Seijuro heard the implication. _Why does he insist on acting as if doing this is easy?_

Seijuro spun him around on his heels and kissed him. Midorima froze, and after a moment, he resisted, twisting under Seijuro's hands. "Why did you do that?" he hissed, when Seijuro broke away.

"Just this once. I look like my brother, don't I?"

Midorima's eyes widened. "I am not using you as his substitute. That's offensive, both to him and to you."

"I'll let you. I don't mind." Seijuro kissed him again, and though Midorima was not reciprocating, he was no longer struggling. He slid his hands up Midorima's neck, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly in his hair. "Come on," he urged, seeing Midorima look troubled at his eyes. "Forget about my eyes. I'm Akashi Seijuro. You want me, don't you?"

Midorima frowned, and his irises darkened, and Seijuro waited; he was a patient man and these things needed time, no pushing. It did not take the wind to remove the jacket, after all. Then - "I do," Midorima murmured, and it was almost a low growl and it sank to the bottom of Seijuro's stomach. "I want you very much."

"Alright," Seijuro purred. "Take me, then."

Midorima had another brief moment of hesitation when they were on his bed, Midorima kissing a trail down to Seijuro's collarbone and Seijuro was halfway out of his pants. "This isn't right," he mumbled. Seijuro brought his leg up between Midorima's legs and nudged and found him still hard.

"Close your eyes if it offends you," Seijuro offered. "I'll cry out for you."

So Midorima took off his glasses and squeezed his eyes shut and Seijuro guided him along, but there was really no need to do so because it came almost naturally for Midorima. Midorima was kissing at a spot beneath his ear for enough time that Seijuro figured it had been a sweet spot for his brother and offered a satisfied hum although it was nothing special. Midorima was very much absorbed and Seijuro found himself thinking stray thoughts, almost laughing at the way he had lay back and thought of mother Japan, so to speak. He was not very charitable, and this was very much out of his nature to be generous to a desperate man.

He was bored, he concluded, and Midorima was very good with his fingers. Some of the sounds that escaped him were not forced. He was bored because things were going to plan - and they would continue going to plan - and he needed something on the side to intrigue him. Midorima was a character, he decided, but ultimately not really to his liking; the intense, obtuse loyalty was suffocating and only really necessary for someone who needed to be reminded they were loved. It was almost ironic, he thought, that for someone who was always surrounded by others who pampered him since birth, his brother would need that sort of thing.

When they finished the whole messy, sticky affair, Seijuro felt adequately satiated and Midorima was trembling. "I'll take the spare futon," he mumbled, pushing on his glasses and stepped awkwardly out of the room.

Seijuro reached for his phone and thumbed a message to his brother, _you'll never guess what I just did,_ but deleted it and fell asleep.


	3. I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

Background music: -

[=]

His little brother was a very interesting person to observe. Seijuro did so over a black shot of espresso before him, resting in a dainty, white saucer. A sliver of biscotti sitting on a napkin next to it, enough distraction and pretty details to cover up his watch. Akashi Seijuro, his brother, whom he had come to more and more so associate with his father and their deep red family name, was drinking an Americano, three fingers and a thumb around the handle and a hand under the cup itself. He personally liked the kinds of coffee shops with disposable cups and misplaced arrogance and Akashi's ridiculous posh shops with ceramic cups and actual musical arrangements playing through the stereo instead of the latest boppy radio hit spun him the wrong way. Akashi buttoned up his shirts to the top bottom and tapped the napkin against his lips like a well-mannered little girl.

"I suppose you're wondering why I called you out here today," Akashi began.

"You wanted to see that I hadn't destroyed your little guard dog," Seijuro answered. "You wanted to make sure I was behaving my little self. So that you could have some semblance of control on your life."

"You always have such an awful way of putting things, brother," Akashi said.

"Well, I've behaved myself, haven't I? Father hasn't found out about me and I haven't sent the market to its knees and Tokyo isn't blown up, so I deserve a treat, don't I?"

"I'll be the judge of that. I heard from Atsushi that you've been speaking with him?"

"Ah!" Seijuro smiled, showing the kind of wide-toothed grin his brother would never dare. In all his years of knowing Akashi, Akashi had been the type to smile modestly, never opening his mouth out of joy. Akashi was buttoned down in the way he liked to dress, honestly. "Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting Atsushi. He's a very cute kind of person, isn't he?"

"He is a very pleasant person. Please do not hurt him like I know you will, brother."

"Little brother, won't you please stop trying talking about your friends as if they are your toys? I'm not going to break everything you love." Akashi responded to this only with a cool sip of his coffee. "But cut it out with the pleasantries. I know you don't conduct meetings just for sentiment's sake. You want to know about what I've done for our cause, right?"

"You've saved me the trouble of discreetly bringing it up, yes."

There was not much to tell. He had been making phone calls and holding one-on-ones and collecting data. Akashi told him of a private channel they could exchange data on, which Seijuro had been well-aware of; he had no interest in divulging all his trump cards yet, and he knew his brother knew this as well. Akashi had been doing work on his own, transferring names and bonds to his name. "It is mere child's play to have the paperwork drawn up to add your name to mine," Akashi dismissed, waving his hand. His Americano was empty.

"I'm glad we're on the same page on these things," Seijuro smiled, wanly. His biscotti was gone, but his espresso was sitting, cooled, untouched.

There was an artificial lull, and Seijuro could hear the question unvoiced and chose instead to force his brother to say his thoughts. Akashi was folding a corner of his napkin up, intently focused on it and the dregs of coffee grounds on the bottom of his cup. Seijuro leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs above his knees. The movement made Akashi glance at him, a moment of hesitant uncertainty on his face. Then - "How is Shintarou?"

"That's what you wanted to ask at the beginning."

Akashi frowned. "Just answer the question."

Seijuro took his shot of espresso and swallowed it. He passed on the empty cup to a waitress who walked by, and cordially handed her his brother's cup as well. She studied them for a moment, a little struck by the visual of twins. But in the end she gave him a gracious smile, asked if they wanted anything more, and turned on her way as if she had not been interested for a moment. Akashi was still staring at him.

"Well," Seijuro said, a little grandiose, putting his hands together. "I slept with Shintarou."

[=]

"Eh?" Murasakibara said, stirring the boiling egg yolks over the stove, a pristine white apron wrapped around his tall frame. "You said you slept with Mido_chin_?"

"You bet I did," Seijuro grinned, sitting on the kitchen counter in the back of Murasakibara's pastry shop, situated neatly in between a florist and a stationary shop in the boutique, outdoor market part of town. Murasakibara had been somewhat hostile the first time they had laid eyes on each other, but he supposed his face had been a buffer and there was nothing the sweet, sugar butter cookies from France he'd spent a night ordering by express delivery could not do for him. Murasakibara opened his doors to him, if a little cautiously, and when Seijuro made no attempt to destroy all the little cookies and cakes and no intention to smear his brother's name in front of him, Murasakibara allowed him to visit the kitchens. In the end, Murasakibara was a simple man, with his only motivations to create delicious snacks and promote a peaceful, snack-filled world. Seijuro did not think Akashi told Murasakibara anything, even though Murasakibara was inclined to chatter about his clientele and new recipes he'd looked up. Seijuro liked to think he satiated Murasakibara's curiosity about his brother's comings and goings. "He was very surprised."

"I would imagine~. How did Aka_chin_ take it?"

Seijuro laughed because it had been a very amusing image. "His mouth fell open. He looked like he'd never heard of such a thing before. His face turned white, almost. I know it sounds like straight out of a book, but my brother plays into tropes a lot. He's such a cute little brother."

"You shouldn't tease him like that. Older brothers should be nice."

"I'm mean," Seijuro shrugged. "He asked me why, but you know, a good boy doesn't kiss and tell. He looked like he was about to cry." He was deriving too much glee from this. He as making up for all the years he didn't pull Akashi's hair when they were younger or steal his toys or pull out his chair from under him. Murasakibara frowned petulantly at him as he turned off the flame and let the yolk mixture cool.

"That's cruel of you. You shouldn't have said anything, especially since Mido_chin_'s got no intention of going in that direction with you."

"It's my duty as a brother to be cruel. It'll keep him on his toes." Seijuro beckoned Murasakibara closer. "You've got some flour on your face." He blew on his hands and began to pat the white away from Murasakibara's cheeks. Murasakibara had been surprised at Seijuro's consistent tendencies to be physically affectionate, but Akashi was not known for anything closely remote to pats on the back or squeezes on the shoulder. Murasakibara closed his eyes and puffed his cheeks.

"You'll get flour all over yourself," he complained, and began to bat at Seijuro, running his hands down his arms to get any trace of flour off the striped button-up and along the front of Seijuro's waistcoat. Seijuro wondered how his brother and Murasakibara could have functioned as friends; Murasakibara liked to be handsy too, and Akashi could not possibly have stood for such casual affection like that. Murasakibara slid his hands around Seijuro's waist and he started suddenly.

"Sorry," Murasakibara drawled, extracting himself quickly. "Are you ticklish?"

"No," Seijuro said slowly, unsure himself. It'd felt strange, the sudden way Murasakibara had touched him, and it wasn't as if no one else had touched him like that before. "You must have surprised me, that's all."

[=]

He got the call when he was finishing his shift for the night, his phone vibrating as he was putting his white lab coat back in his locker in the doctors' personal room. "Midorima, I'm meeting my fiancee tonight for the first time. Normally, my father would accompany to meet her parents as well, but as it is, he is busy and requested I bring a family friend in his stead. Would you like to come with me?"

Midorima thought of Akashi Seijuro, the one living in his apartment with him, and felt a moment of intense moral contemplation. "You have no obligation, of course," Akashi continued, completely unaware of his internal conflict, "but I was just thinking that I would feel comfortable with you there with me."

More likely than not, Akashi was not aware how others might take his words. "You'd like me to meet the woman you're to marry," Midorima clarified.

"Is this insensitive of me?"

"No," Midorima said, tiredly. "I'll go with you."

Midorima met Akashi outside of one of the highrise hotels in the city, one of the buildings that stretched high into the night sky with sparkling lights at the top. Akashi was standing at the sidewalk, next to a dark car, in a dark gray suit and deep maroon tie against a black dress shirt. The pale cream colored scarf was loosely hanging around his neck. The tie around his neck felt a little tight but Midorima resisted loosening it. He bent down to assure the driver of the black car that Akashi was safe in his care and the car drove away.

"You look well, Akashi," Midorima said by way of greeting.

Akashi's eyes stayed somewhere near his chest, almost as if he had not wanted to meet eyes. They tipped up without warning and Akashi had a way of looking distant and petitioning sometimes. "Likewise. I hope my brother isn't giving you any trouble."

He thought of how it felt inside Seijuro, the way the warmth satisfied something dark and hungry deep in the pit of his stomach and how he never wanted to be hungry again if that were to happen again, and thought quickly about how it was something he could not even fathom Seijuro speaking of even to hold against him. "I can handle your brother."

Akashi looked away. "It's time to go inside."

Momoi Satsuki was a very beautiful woman. She came forward to take Akashi's hand, then Midorima's, before her parents as if she were their representative. "It's very nice to finally get to meet you, Akashi-_san_," she said, smiling and dipping her head. Her dress was pitch black, lace at her throat with gauzy floral-print sleeves and gold trim. The modest way she tied up her hair did not diminish the fact she was a sight for sore eyes, a high chin and good posture.

"It's my pleasure," Akashi smiled back, bending at the back to kiss her hand. "It is good to finally meet you."

Midorima acquainted himself with Momoi's parents, quickly assuring them he was not to be the father in law, and they were somewhat reassured; Akashi Masahi was a big enough man to strike intimidation in their hearts. They sat for dinner at the hotel's restaurant, a fancy French place that offered them a table in a private room overlooking the city.

"Our daughter doesn't usually doll herself up like this," Momoi's mother admitted during the appetizer course, clearly satisfied with her future son-in-law and comfortable enough to confess such things. "She's one of those rough and ready women you think of in dramas who runs a whole police district, the ones who rip their ballgowns and pull out machine guns."

"Mother," Momoi chastised, although she did not look particularly concerned about it.

"I like a strong woman," Akashi replied, easygoing and smooth. "I am not at all ashamed of wedding a wife who can shoot better than I can. But I am intrigued, Momoi-_san_, that out of all possible professions, you decided to become a police officer even with your familial ties."

"Yes, yes, we've asked that of her as well!" her mother agreed, pleased to find a common interest.

"Mother," Momoi laughed. She turned to Akashi, unguarded sincerity in her face. "Yes, I know it's uncommon for a girl like me to be entering the police force. Especially when I could be taking after my papa and the business world is just as challenging and rewarding, I think! But you see, it wasn't entirely for me; I wanted to enforce justice and a sense of peace in the world, as does everyone else, but you see, my idiot childhood friend…"

This was an unforeseen topic, as both of Momoi's parents started and began to look uneasy. "I thought we weren't going to discuss Daiki," her father mumbled.

"Oh, father," Momoi sighed exasperatedly. "For the record," she announced, locking eyes with Akashi as she said so, "my good friend Daiki and I are merely friends and have only been friends since we knew each other in school. Unlike my parents' dreams of romantic grandeur, I harbor no romantic feelings for him."

"I never thought so for a second," Akashi chuckled. "You do not seem the woman to marry one but love another."

"That's what I'm saying, mama," Momoi insisted, protesting almost childishly. "I keep telling you - Dai-_chan_ will die if I'm not there to keep watch over him. He's an _idiot_, I tell you!"

"Your dedication is admirable," Midorima said, if only to soothe the frantic looks Momoi's parents were giving her; he could understand this was not the direction they wanted this meeting to go. Akashi looked at him. "To have been with your friend for so long and even now you're looking after him."

"Yes," Momoi beamed. "You understand, don't you, Midorima-_san_? To be very close with a very good friend of yours, like Akashi-_san_."

Midorima glanced at Akashi. Akashi was still looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face. "Yes, I suppose it's the same." Akashi turned back to his food and speared a potato with his fork without a word.

"How long have you known each other?" Momoi asked.

"We've been acquainted for years now," Akashi interjected before Midorima could respond. "My father threw out his hip a few years back and Midorima had been the doctor who treated him."

"Oh!" Momoi said. "That's sweet. Oh, but that's probably not the word to describe that sort of thing, I suppose."

Akashi took an espresso after dinner and Momoi took a creamy latte and all Midorima could think of was that Akashi was not going to find sleep soon after drinking coffee so soon before bed. Akashi and Momoi exchanged words about the state of Tokyo as Midorima tended to Momoi's parents, answering their questions about his profession and responding with polite inquiries about their tiramisu. Momoi took her parents with her as she left, insisting she'd love to stay but it was a police officer's duty to make sure the elderly got home safe (her mother had protested at that). Akashi's smile lasted until he was certain the Momoi family had left the doors and it was replaced with a mixture of exhaustion and relief.

"That went well," Midorima offered.

"It did," Akashi agreed, his coat hanging off one arm. Midorima resisted the habit of taking Akashi's coat for him.

"Are you going home now?"

"My father reserved a room for me here, and he did for Momoi-_san_ and her family; he was under the impression we would chat until the late hours and it would be convenient if we did not have to look at the time." He glanced at his watch. It was already quite late, eleven-forty. "I had meant to tell her, but I suppose she was already adamant about leaving."

"She liked you, I think."

Akashi ignored that. "Are you leaving now, Midorima?"

"There's nothing left for me to do here, so I should be making my leave."

"Come up with me to my suite for a bit," Akashi suggested, and it did not sound like a request to Midorima's ears. "I'd like to have a drink with you, as old friends."

Akashi's father had reserved the penthouse at the top of the hotel; there were two penthouse suites at the top and it was clear by the way there were flowers outside of one that it was meant for Momoi. Akashi entered the other one and held the door for Midorima. It was not Akashi's house, but still - he felt a moment of foreboding, as if he were agreeing to something else by joining Akashi. The penthouse was spacious, with a large bedroom opening to a wide empty space with couches facing a wide window. The bathroom, after a moment's look, revealed black marble and a bath big enough to accommodate a small family. Akashi waved a hand toward one of the cushiony armchairs in the bedroom and reached into the minibar in the kitchen area and came back with a bottle of expensive scotch and two glasses.

"My brother told me you slept with him," Akashi began without preamble. Midorima almost dropped the glasses Akashi handed him.

His response was key. Beginning too defensively would make Akashi shut down. "That's what you called me here for," Midorima concluded. Akashi poured into each glass a shot of scotch and left the bottle on the table. Their coats were resting on one arm each of another armchair.

"I was not sure how else to bring up the subject," Akashi said, taking his glass of scotch and crossing the room. "It was not something to casually mention during lunch nor something trivial enough to ask over a phone call or email."

"It isn't trivial to you," Midorima said, a little surprised.

"Did I say that?" Akashi asked dryly. "It struck me as uncharacteristic of you. You seemed to me more capable of self control and unlikely to resort to that kind of behavior. In fact, I was certain he had told me a lie but you didn't deny it yourself."

Midorima gripped the glass in his hand. "It was a momentary lapse in judgment. A mistake, if you will. It was not a smart thing to do and I regret it." Akashi was shrugging off his suit jacket and tossed it on the coat chair, drinking his scotch in the process. "But you don't need to concern yourself on the matter, Akashi. Your brother and I will deal with it ourselves."

"That's true," Akashi said slowly. "Such interpersonal matters are irrelevant to me, since we are no longer together." He left the glass on the top of the dresser and went into the bathroom. Midorima heard the sound of water running and he drank his scotch as well. The lights were low in the bedroom but the room felt hot, and Midorima took off his jacket as well. He vaguely thought of Seijuro at his apartment, a little bit of residue anger at him for having said anything, and walked to the bathroom. At the doorway, he saw Akashi peering at himself in the mirror, his face dripping. The way he wiped himself off with a towel reminded Midorima of the mornings they spent together if Akashi did not need to be in the office by eight, the way Akashi liked to lean with his back against the sink to apply Midorima's aftershave for him as he brushed his teeth.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

Akashi turned back to him, a little lost, and he dropped the towel onto the floor as he walked to the doorway and took Midorima's face in his hands and kissed him deeply. Midorima fell backwards and the momentum took Akashi with him until they had stumbled into the bed, Akashi falling forward onto Midorima's chest still kissing him, tongue hot in Midorima's mouth. Midorima's hands found themselves down the front of Akashi's shirt, unbuttoning each button with fumbling impatience, and then they were on Akashi's skin, sliding the shirt from Akashi's shoulders. Akashi was pulling his tie loose, hands almost ripping the buttons from their seams and he was kissing so desperately it made Midorima's mind reel.

"I thought," Midorima said breathlessly, Akashi straddling his waist taking off his belt, "that you said that time would be the last between us." The metallic clink of the belt reminded him this was very much real, Akashi's delicious weight against him shifting as he slipped off his pants. He thought he would never again see the way Akashi's hip bones jutted out slightly against his skin, something he was always self conscious about, and he laid his hands on them against his better judgment.

"When I heard you'd slept with my brother," Akashi whispered, "I…" He hesitated and leaned down, his chest warm against Midorima's. "...was envious, and I know I shouldn't, because you can do whatever you'd like to anyone now, and…" Akashi's voice was hot and jolting in his ear and Midorima turned his head and kissed the spot on his neck he'd discovered early. Akashi gasped, twisting on top of him, and Midorima thought if he hadn't been hard already Akashi's voice had definitely done the trick for him. He continued kissing that lovely pale neck, his hands slipping from Akashi's waist to settle comfortably on his ass. He knew he ought not to, but he pretended to forget and sucked a nice, dark spot onto Akashi's collarbone, and Akashi was trembling on top of him, grinding gently against him.

"Are you sure," Midorima breathed.

"I want," Akashi said. "I want…" He helped Midorima out of his slacks and followed as Midorima climbed onto the bed. He barely had time to even lean back on the headboard when Akashi situated himself on his lap again and was kissing him again, running a hand down his arm.

"We," Midorima began, quietly amazed at the feel of Akashi's lips, "don't have...anything, I didn't think…I wouldn't have...thought to bring anything…"

Akashi considered him for a moment before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, doing an almost sinful movement with his hips against him. "It's fine, just - do it without."

Midorima flushed. He was a doctor and - Akashi was moving so nicely against him, he bit his lip. "Still," he insisted, Akashi kissing his face, "it'll hurt if I...I don't want you to be…"

Akashi let out a laugh. "We'll be okay," he assured Midorima, reaching down to thumb down the band of his underwear. Akashi was _wet_ and Midorima swallowed. He reached out and swiped the head with his finger, making Akashi hiss and bring a hand up to his mouth. Akashi's dick was twitching under his hand. He glanced up to gauge Akashi's reaction and almost sputtered at the way Akashi was sucking his own fingers. Akashi's eyes were murky and saw right through him as he brought a hand and began to rub at Midorima's crotch appreciatively. His fingers were glistening when he took them out of his mouth. "Take off your underwear," he murmured lowly, an order.

Midorima barely had time to wiggle out of anything when Akashi had slid down his legs to get his crotch at mouth-level, his breath hot. He was vaguely aware that Akashi had began touching himself when the man pressed a wet kiss to the fold where the head met the shaft and for a moment, Midorima forgot where his train of thought was going.

Their sixth date (approximately four dates from the day Midorima would awkwardly stumble over his suggestion of them living together) had been at Midorima's old apartment. Akashi had made an offhand comment about having been given an impromptu cooking lesson at one of the restaurants his father owned which Midorima had frantically interpreted as some wish on Akashi's part for domesticity and foolishly proposed making dinner together. It had been a stressful few days leading up to that night as Midorima had about as much cooking ability as a newborn and contemplated how he could ever tell his parents how this particular relationship had ended. Fortunately, Akashi proved to be a much more competent chef - Midorima had begun to think there was nothing Akashi wasn't good at at this point - and whipped out bruschetta with bone marrow on the side. Midorima had spent most of the preparation time reciting the nutritional value of the food.

The most memorable point of the night, to Midorima's recollection, had been the bone marrow. Midorima did not own any specialized silverware for such things so they had struggled with the smallest spoons he had owned until Akashi brought the bone to his mouth and Midorima watched, transfixed, as Akashi cleaned every inch of marrow from the bone with his mouth, his tongue pink with the effort, and Midorima had stared at the spotless bone and thought of how awful he was that he'd gotten hard from that.

"You're distracted," Akashi mumbled, not yet fully done administering to Midorima's cock, his tongue working the underside like something sweet.

"Just," Midorima said, reaching out to run a hand through Akashi's hair, "thinking about you." Akashi's hand was between his legs, reaching behind him.

"Oh?" Midorima was slick, throbbing and Akashi turned his attention to his fingers, leaning his cheek into Midorima's hand before sucking on his fingers, inching himself up to rub himself against Midorima. "Good, I hope." His tongue was thick around Midorima's fingers and Midorima tried to focus.

"Very good." Akashi relinquished him with a wet slurp and Midorima reached behind him and felt Akashi stretching himself out with two fingers. He pushed in, gingerly, as Akashi pulled out. The warmth was immediate, wet and tight around his fingers. Akashi was moving his hips until Midorima was fucking him with his fingers, Akashi grinding up gently against his stomach with a rumble of a keen in his throat. Midorima kissed it, feeling the vibrations of a groan with his lips.

Akashi's hands slipped around his neck and Midorima kissed his neck again, feeling Akashi tremble in his grasp. Akashi said something against his lips, something soft and fleeting, something like _i want you_. Midorima crooked his fingers.

Entering Akashi had been almost anticlimactic - Midorima thought he might have forgotten what it was like to be inside Akashi but his body remembered right away but that made it no less satisfying. Akashi riding him was a sight for sore eyes, shifting slowly and almost painfully, but soon he was panting to keep up, Akashi arching his back in the way that Midorima knew he was brushing a good spot inside him. Midorima collected Akashi's hands, holding them in his own, and kissed the insides of Akashi's wrists, feeling a jolt of a pulse for a moment, sucking a small mark.

"I've never," Midorima breathed, Akashi's fingers scrambling against his palm, "wanted to do this with anyone else, I promise - "

"Don't," Akashi mumbled, and his face was a pretty shade of red. He allowed Midorima to slide a pillow under his hips and set his own pace. Akashi's thighs were anchors at his sides, fingers buried tightly in the sheets. Akashi's eyes were hazy and a little dazed when he finally pulled out and rubbed himself against Akashi, keeping friction with his fingers. He kept his hand over them when he came, twisting his wrist until Akashi came with a soft whimper. Midorima sat back and let out a deep breath he realized he had been holding.

"I'll go now," Midorima announced when Akashi finally came out from the shower, a fluffy white bathrobe wrapped around his frame and a towel against his hair. Midorima was half dressed, rubbing his glasses against his sleeve. "It wouldn't be proper for me to stay, and…"

"Stay," Akashi said.

"I shouldn't."

"You shouldn't," Akashi agreed. "Just like we shouldn't have. But I want you to. I might regret it in the morning. But I want you to stay right now."

Midorima sighed and put down his glasses on the side table. Akashi was sulking at the bathroom door and only came forward when Midorima sat on the bed and beckoned him closer. "You're being selfish, Seijuro."

Akashi's eyes glowed for a moment with affection and his lips twitched. "You always wanted to spoil me," he said finally.

"I did," Midorima admitted, pressing a kiss to his chin. "I'll stay."

[=]

He left early in the morning, before Akashi had awoken and Akashi was an early riser. He left no note - it didn't seem appropriate, and Akashi's sleeping face had been enough to tide him over. The cab driver seemed to leer at him when he requested a ride back to his apartment, but Midorima was too tired to really care at that point. Seijuro was awake when he returned, walking through the foyer quietly.

"You certainly stayed out late last night," Seijuro jeered, a smirk on his lips. There was a strong smell of Arabian coffee. Seijuro must have found his expensive brand hidden in a back shelf. "Weren't you with my brother?"

"Say what you want," Midorima huffed, deciding he had enough time for a quick nap before he had to change into new clothes for the day. Seijuro followed him to his room, lounging lazily against his door frame in a t-shirt and boxers.

"You cleaned up well," he said. "But I guess my dear brother values discretion. I couldn't have guessed that you did anything other than tuck my brother in and stand guard outside his door."

Midorima didn't answer. His patience for Seijuro seemed infinite, strange enough for such early hours. He shrugged off his shoes and crawled into bed without a care that he was wrinkling his shirt.

"That good?" Seijuro laughed. "I'll leave you to your beauty sleep then, princess."


End file.
